Page 52 of To Wed a Wild Scot
“Aye, if you’d rather—”
Logan didn’t get a chance to finish before she snatched his arm and dragged him through the formal gardens and onto a graveled path that wound toward the back of the castle. They crossed through the thick hedge that separated the wild gardens from the pathway. When she caught sight of the rough trails and riotous profusion of flowers, she let out a forlorn little sigh.
“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” She wandered ahead, heedless of the unevenness of the ground at her feet, and approached a patch of overgrown azaleas and rhododendron spilling onto the walkway. “What rich colors. This garden reminds me a bit of Rosemount. The gardens at Graystone Court are very grand, but the formal arrangement is off-putting, somehow, with rows upon rows of roses, all of them perfectly aligned. They’re beautiful in their way, of course, but I never much admired them.”
Logan didn’t care about the roses at Graystone Court, but this was the longest speech she’d made since they left the house, so he pasted on an encouraging smile. “I thought all English ladies loved roses.”
She shrugged. “Roses are fine, really. It’s not the flowers, but the rigid lines and fussy, manicured look of them I don’t care for. Flowers should grow in wild profusion, just like this. Don’t you think so?”
“Aye. I like this garden better than any of the others at Castle Kinross. Here are the blue poppies.” Logan took her arm again and guided her carefully over the rutted pathway toward a blur of vibrant blue flower heads rising above a carpet of glossy green leaves. “The shade of blue varies. Some poppies are much paler, but we tend to get the deeper blue color in this garden.”
Lady Juliana ran her fingertips gently over the delicate blooms. “I can’t imagine a prettier blue than this.”
That pleased Logan, but she lapsed back into a pensive silence after that, and his smile gradually faded. He watched her as she wandered down the paths, stopping here and there to study a plant or caress a flower she particularly admired.
The grim line of her mouth had relaxed, but she wasn’t smiling. Her lips were turned down, and her eyes were dull. She looked…sad.
He’d seen Lady Juliana in a temper, her green eyes flashing. He’d seen her smile and scowl, and he’d watched her face as she drifted off to sleep. He’d seen her dirty, creased, and covered with dust, and he’d seen her soaked to the skin.
But he’d never seen her sad before.
It was…oddly unbearable.
It shouldn’t matter to him. If he’d been asked to explain why it did, he couldn’t have. He only knew he couldn’t offer her his hand while she looked so melancholy. It didn’t mean anything, of course. Really, his hesitation had nothing to do with Lady Juliana at all. It was just…well, what man wanted to propose to such a dejected-looking lady?
He drew in a deep breath. Perhaps she’d smile again, once they’d settled this marriage business. “You’ve been patient these last few days, Lady Juliana. I’ve made a decision, and I want to speak to you about—”
“Ruthven Burn!” she shouted suddenly.
Logan’s head jerked back. “Ruthven Burn? I don’t…what about it?”
“Doesn’t a section of it flow just beyond the walled garden? I long to see it again! Won’t you take me?”
Logan stared down at her, baffled. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. The bank is slippery, and neither of us wants to take another swim in the burn.”
She waved this away. “You needn’t worry about that. I’m very sure-footed, Mr. Blair. You’ve seen so yourself.”
“Sure-footed, yes—right up until you tumbled into the burn.” He’d never get this damned proposal out if she fell into the burn again. He couldn’t ask for her hand when she was soaked and shivering. It wasn’t gentlemanly.
“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have fallen at all if Fiona hadn’t jumped.” She tugged on his hand. “Come now, Mr. Blair. Take me to the burn.”
This proposal was turning decidedly odd. Logan had a vague idea it wasn’t meant to go this way, but he allowed her to drag him through the wild garden to an old stone wall covered with moss and climbing ivy. A thick wooden door was set into a shallow recess in the wall, and he pulled back the sharp branches to clear a pathway for her.
This section of the burn wasn’t as deep or as fast as the one by the Robertsons’ farm, but Lady Juliana seemed to be delighted with it. They wandered at the edge of it for some time, and she exclaimed over the enormous trees and lush greenery growing alongside the bank. She seemed happy enough to duck under branches and crawl over roots, no matter if her hems grew wet, and her shoes muddier with every step.
She was interested in everything around her, and asked a number of questions, but she didn’t chatter at him, and she didn’t insist on foolish points of propriety. She never blinked when she was obliged to hike up her skirts and clamber over a branch or root. Logan, who was walking behind her, caught more than one breathless glimpse of a pretty ankle and calf.
He had no idea how they’d ended up mucking about out here, but despite his confusion, he couldn’t prevent the smile that curved his lips as he studied her. Her dainty, pale-green dress was spoiled by a streak of dirt across the front of the bodice from an errant tree branch, and there was a tiny tear in one of her sleeves. She hadn’t been wearing a bonnet when they left the library, and now…he peered more closely at her, and his grin widened. Long tendrils of hair were tumbling over her shoulders, and several leaves had gotten tangled in the silky strands.
Lady Juliana seemed reluctant to leave, so they wandered for a while, until at last she agreed to leave the burn behind, and they made their way from the woods back into the walled garden at one side of the castle. Logan had intended to take her back to the formal gardens and force his proposal out, but then he hesitated, recalling something.
There was a place in the garden—a special place, enough out of the way he was sure Juliana hadn’t seen it before—and all at once it struck him as the only place in the world he could ask for her hand. It was a foolish, romantic notion, so much so he was surprised at himself, but once the idea was there he couldn’t shake it free. “I have something else to show you I think you’ll like, if you’re not fatigued.”
Her gaze met his. He thought he caught a flash of apprehension in the green depths, but she looked away before he could be certain. “I’m not fatigued,” she said in a small voice.
“All right, then. Follow me.” He led her back toward the wild garden and down a path they hadn’t explored the first time. When they neared the end, he took her arm. They were coming up on the arch, and he wanted to see her face when she first caught sight of it.
She paused at the end of the pathway, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.
